


I Wrote Filth Because I Love This Ship And Will Defend It Til The Day I Die

by ialpiriel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4076620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ialpiriel/pseuds/ialpiriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two (basically married) Adaars and Cassandra have fun in bed. There's a lot of bantering and a lot of unapologetic filth</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wrote Filth Because I Love This Ship And Will Defend It Til The Day I Die

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feel free to call me out if i fucked up wrt Shan + his being trans. I like to know when I fucked up, so I can fix it for the next time. [Here's](http://ialpiriel.tumblr.com/ask) my askbox on tumblr, and there's always the comment section!

The fact Ataash can--and does--lift Shan onto the mattress, her hands under his ass and his legs wrapped over her hips, his arms around her neck and shoulders, their mouths pressed together and making sloppy noises that Cassandra suspects she should be uncomfortable with, but which instead remind her of the last night the three of them were together--but the fact Ataash can lift Shan, and could, in turn, lift her, sends a thrill down Cassandra's spine.

SHe’s on the small sofa by the stairs, hands folded in her lap and her feet together, flat on the floor. She's watching--and it still feels strange to be a spectator, though it feels stranger to have two pairs of hands on her, Ataash’s warm, callused ones on her face, her chest, her arms, tracing patterns into her skin, while Shan’s cool, smooth ones work her open until she can barely sit up unassisted, let alone get her legs or arms to work right.

Ataash bends over him, settles her knees on either side of his waist--her legs are long enough she doesn’t have to sit on him, but he squirms underneath her anyway-- and presses one hand to his forehead. He tips his head back as far as he can, curls his fists into the sheets, and makes one small noise, a tiny ‘huh’ as he arches his back. Ataash giggles and coasts her hand along one of his horns, presses her other thumb to the point of his chin, traces it down his jawbone. She drags her fingers along the tendon in his neck, across his collarbone, curls her hand around his shoulder so her fingers dig into the muscle. She leans down and presses a kiss to the soft skin under his chin.

“Okay?” she asks, and Cassandra knows the language is for her benefit. SHe had accidentally listened to them once (for only a minute, and she had apologized after, and Ataash had laughed while Shan blushed), and she had understood only three or four words of the entire exchange.

“Very,” Shan agrees, one hand--the one whose shoulder Ataash is not holding--coming up to cradle the back of her head. Ataash hums, presses another kiss to the same spot, then moves down his neck, first a kiss on one side, halfway down, then another just above his collarbone on the other side, which she spends time on. Shan squirms and whines under her mouth, bucks his hips as best he can, digs his fingers into her shoulder and her bicep, and when she pulls away, Cassandra can see a bitemark there, and a rapidly-purpling bruise.

‘Still okay?” Ataash asks, and sits back, removing her hands from him. She’s grinning, and she crosses her arms.

“Fuck yes, more,” Shan replies. He opens his eyes just enough to see, and reaches for her hips. She laughs again, guides his hands to their destinations.

“I love when you get like this,” she tells him, and leans down again. Shan groans when her mouth finds skin.

Cassandra shifts in her seat.

Shan and Ataash are both naked, but she’s still in her undershirt and pants. She’s just watching them--watching Shan in particular, as he squirms and moans and wraps himself around Ataash to the best of his ability.

He turns and looks her in the eye, gasps her name and doesn’t have words for what he looks like.

She’s read a lot of books, but none of them ever described this.

She’s out of her seat before her brain catches up, but she freezes at the edge of the bed, where Ataash and Shan both freeze and look at her. Ataash looks startled for a moment, and Cass manages half a croaked word before Ataash butts in, grinning. “Here,” she says, and unstraddles Shan’s middle. “You take your turn.”

Cass looks between them, then carefully kneels on the edge of bed. She knee-walks her way to take Ataash’s place, but she’s too small to adequately straddle him the way Ataash did, so she settles for sitting across his hips, and Shan rests his hands on the fronts of her thighs, palms warm through the thin leather of her pants.

“Is this...alright?” she asks. It’s bto ha genuine question and an attempt to imitate the way they talk to each other.

“Yes,” SHan replies. “Though I would like it more if you were doing something.” He smirks up at her, and she wrinkles her nose before she bends down to kiss his lips. he leans up into it, and slips her tongue after just a moment. She cradles his face in one hand, and he leans into her touch, pulling his arms back so he can support himself on his elbows. Ataash makes an approving noise from beside Cass, and she flinches and breaks the kiss, looking over at Ataash.

“Sorry,” Ataash says, and pats Cass’s shoulder. ‘"I’ll go...do something else for a minute.”

“Nooo,” Shan replies, twists until he can look at Ataash. “I feel good,” he says.

“Oh.” She pauses. “Well, how do you feel about me--uh, what is the phrase?” Ataash squinches her eyes up and scowls as she tries to recall the phrase. She looks to Cass for an answer. She rests her hands in her lap, and it strikes Cass again that they two are naked while she’s still clothed.

“Don’t make me say it,” Shan whines, as Cass stares back at Ataash. Ataash laughs and leans around Cass--and Cass feels like she shouldn’t be here, like she’s just in the way--to press a kiss to Shan’s cheek. Ataash’s light touch, a hand on the middle of her back, makes her feel better.

“I like the way it sounds when you say it,” Ataash replies. “And you blush so nice. Your ears and your cheeks and your nose and your neck all go very red and it makes your freckles stand out.”

“I’m glad you think it’s cute because I--hngh,” Shan is cut off when Ataash runs a hand down his chest, between his breast, toward his belly button. Cassandra is hyperaware of the exact position of Ataash’s hand, considers (not for the first time) how square and large Ataash’s fingers are. She feels the tingle in her spine again, the heat between her legs. Ataash laughs at Shan’s response, as he arches his back and his hands clench and unclench in the sheets.

“You make noises so easy,” she laughs, then leans in close to his ear and says something Cass can’t hear and suspects she wouldn’t understand. Then she leans back removes her hand, and sits back a little behind Cass, still off to Shan’s side. “I’m going to make you come until you cannot stand,” she declares, punctuated by the sound of callus on skin. Shan’s hips shift underneath Cass, and she half-turns to look behind herself. She catches a glimpse of Ataash’s hand on the inside of Shan’s thigh before she turns back around.

Shan has his eyes screwed shut, his lips pressed tight.

“Are you alright?” she asks. It’s not a good face to see, she doesn’t think.

“Yeah,” Shan squeaks. “Just trying not to give--her--the--satisfaction.” He hunches and unhunches his shoulders once, takes a deep breath.

“You are making too much sense still,” Ataash murmurs, and she does something that has Shan arching his back and making a strangled noise. Ataash laughs and does whatever it is again, and Cass unstraddles him, moves back to the edge of the bed so she can watch.

Ataash has her thumb against the junction of his thigh and his groin, currently just resting, but when she sees Cass has moved, she gives her a sly smile and presses again. She has her arm across Shan’s thigh, so he can’t move it very well, but his other leg jumps, and he tries to press more into Ataash’s hand, his back arching, his shoulders and heels digging into the mattress for what little traction it offers. He wiggles, trying to get her to move her hand, but she moves with him, and he makes a frustrated noise. Cass makes a noise of sympathy, and Ataash laughs.

The hickies across Shan’s neck and collarbones stand out dark, splotchy red, in contrast to the grayer, uniform red of the blush making its way from the bases of his horns to his breasts. Cass catches herself pressing fingers to her own chest, in sync with his bruises. Ataash glances over at her, and even for the failing light from outside, her pupils are blown wide. It startles Cassandra, for some reason. It makes her look...dark. A small child’s fear-of-the-dark bogeyman, naked and nearly fingering her may-as-well-be husband. The wide white grin doesn’t really help, but the way Ataash rearranges herself and Shan, until she’s sitting between his knees, turns her benevolent again.

“If you want to sit there, that is fine,” Ataash murmurs in Cass’s direction. “If you want to sit on the sofa and touch yourself, that is good too. The best spot is going to be here, though.” Ataash leans back and pats the bed next to Shan’s knee. “You can see him and you can see everything I am doing from there.” Shan makes a small noise, and Ataash pats his knee, smiling. Cass nods--there are no truly appropriate words for this--and slowly removes her shirt. Ataash grunts approvingly, but leaves it at that. She turns her attention back to Shan. “What do you want me to do?” Ataash asks Shan, coasting her fingers over his thighs.

“Do I have to say it?” he asks. His hands are flat on the bedspread, but his shoulders hunch and he scowls.

“Yes,” Ataash replies, and curls her fingers under his thighs so she can lift his knees around her hips. Shan sighs.

“I want you to--to, uh--to use your mouth. On me.” He manages, his face going redder and redder as he speaks. He finally gives up, and his hands cover his face as he groans, “Why this?”

“Because I like watching you squirm,” Ataash says, and rearranges. She slides back on the bed, gets onto her elbows, lifts one of his thighs over her shoulder, pushes the other away--it’s not lost on Cass that Shan’s foot that is now hanging off the bed is the one closer to her, giving her a nearly-unimpeded view--and drops the rest of the way to her stomach. “Look at me,” she murmurs, and presses her cheek to the inside of his thigh. “ _Kadan_ , _kadan_ , _taarsidaath defransdim nehraa halsaam_.” She giggles at Shan’s grunt. “Look at me,” she says again, and Shan slowly, reluctantly, removes his hands from his face and props himself up on his elbows. He can’t look her in the eye, his gaze skating over her eyebrows and her cheekbones and her twitching ears, never stopping anywhere. She hums, presses a little harder into his thigh. “Look at me,” she repeats, and Shan finally locks his gaze with hers. She grins, repositions herself just a little more, and Shan bites his lip. He forces himself to stay deathly still as she presses with her thumbs--he whimpers, once, so small it would be lost in anything but the absolute silence of the room--and spreads his labia. She grins up at him one last time, eyes squinched nearly shut and all gums, before she drops her head and licks once; long, slow, careful, her eyes still locked with Shan’s. He manages to hold her gaze until she reaches his clit, at which point he gives up and drops his head backwards, a long, high-pitched whine tearing its way out of his chest.

Ataash giggles and puts a little more pressure behind her tongue.

Shan opens his eyes, catches one look at Cass, standing next to the bed, shirtless, with one hand wrapped across her stomach and one hand on one breast, and immediately claps his hands back over his face, too embarrassed to look at her. Ataash laughs, a wicked, booming thing from deep in her chest. Shan whacks his heel into her back for it, squirms a little more.

“Greedy greedy greedy,” Ataash laughs, and licks again. Shan moans, arching into her touch. She presses her mouth to his clit, then, and takes her time doing something that has him wiggling and squeaking, until he suddenly seizes up and lets out a gasp. His hands jump for Ataash’s head, palms against her horns, fingers on her scalp behind them, no push or pull. She leaves her mouth in place until his spine unbends, then she leans up just far enough to kiss the skin beneath his bellybutton. “How many do you think?” she asks.

“Least one more. If you hurry,” he groans. Atash grins and removes his leg from her shoulder.

“Cass,” she orders, and moves out of the way. She pats the bed where she was just laying. “Come touch him.”

‘Is that--?” she asks Shan.

“Please,” he responds. “Please,” he repeats, and spreads his legs a little wider.

“I can leave, if you want,” Ataash offers. She has her head tilted back, her neck bared and her horns nearly invisible over her forehead and brows. She reaches up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then licks her lips. “I know you are still not comfortable with me.”

“Hey,” Shan grunts, and knocks Ataash in the back with his knee. “Pay attention to me.”

Ataash rolls her eyes, casts one look at Cass like she’s saying “look at this little shit and what I put up with,” one look at Shan like she’s saying “you get what you ask for,” then drags one finger through his folds, slowly, so he whines and digs his feet in and tries to shove into her hand a little more. She’s grinning, elated at his response, and Cass sits on the edge of the bed.

When Ataash removes her hand, she kneels between his legs again, then leans up his body, planting one hand in his armpit. She bumps the bottom of his chin with the back of her other hand--the one she was just using--then waits for him to open his eyes. When he does--his pupils blown wide, and eyes only half open, too blissed-out to do more--she pops her finger in her mouth and sucks it clean, grinning so wide she can barely keep her mouth closed.

“Fuck,” Shan breathes, and Ataash laughs. She moves out from between his legs, swings herself over to the other side of his thigh, and crosses her legs so she’s facing Cass, seated precariously between the edge of the bed and Shan’s leg.

“He’s all yours,” she tells Cass, and sweeps her arm in Shan’s direction.

“I’ve never--” Cass starts to protest, then stops herself. She furrows her brows, then carefully kneels between Shan’s legs. He props himself up on his elbows and looks at her.

“I can walk you through it,” he offers. “Or--or Ataash can. Call it, uh--bonding.”

“ _Bonding_ ,” Ataash cackles, and throws her head back to laugh. “You can call it bonding but I think that is more than _bonding_ , kadan.”

“It doesn’t have to be more than bonding,” Shan replies.

“If you insist,” Ataash laughs, and rolls her eyes. “Down,” she says, and points at the bed again. “He is not that flexible.” She grins, and Cass grins too, while Shan rolls his eyes. “We tried once,” Ataash stage whispers to Cass, and giggles again. “It did not go well.”

“I would imagine not,” Cass agrees as she carefully drops to her elbows and stretches out so her legs hang off the end of the bed. “How do I start?” she asks. Shan is still propped on his elbows, looking down at her, considering, Ataash stays where she’s sitting, and Cassandra has to crane her neck up to not get a faceful of naked Ataash--not that naked Ataash is a bad thing, just--distracting.

Ataash and Shan share a quick look, before Shan nods and flops back on the bed. He stretches his arms above his head and grunts as he digs his heels in so he can arch his back. Cass hears a few pops, and without thinking she places one hand on his thigh--the one still sprawled out to his side, his foot hanging off the edge of the bed, just low enough to be braced against the bedframe.

“You start with your fingers there,” Ataash instructs and leans over to point. Cass carefully places her fingers, and Shan rolls his shoulders and brings his knee in so it rests against her side, just below her armpit. “And then you spread your fingers.”

Cass does as instructed, and Ataash clucks.

“No, no, you have to take the…” she waves her hands up and down in parallel lines, grunts once, and sighs “...with you.” Ataash presses her palms together, then spreads them, keeping the heels of her hands pressed together. “Open,” she says. Shan laughs and brings one arm up over his eyes.

Cassandra turns her attention back to him and carefully does as Ataash instructed.

“Good,” Ataash says, and runs her hand from the back of Cass’s neck to her shoulder, then pulls away. It sends a thrill through Cass, has the hairs on the back of her neck standing up and gooseflesh raising on her arms. “Use your tongue or your fingers to touch from bottom to top.” 

Cassandra nods and carefully places her fingers. She carefully drags them up toward his clit, and Shan hums.

“That's good,” he says, and wiggles his hips to encourage her. “Again.”

She returns her fingers to starting position, presses a little harder, and she feels her fingers slip and Shan jerks back.

“No,” he says. “Nothing inside. That’s the one rule.”

“I--I apologize, it was accidental. Are you--?”

Shan stays up on his elbows, his knees bent and canted in, caging Cass between them. He squints down at her, then slowly lets his legs straighten back out.

“I'll be alright,” he says. “Just--be careful.”

“I will be. I apologize.”

Ataash huffs next to her, and a moment later lifts Shan’s leg to settle it over Cass’s shoulder.

“Good?” she asks, and looks between them.

“Yes,” Shan replies, and Cass nods. She can feel the heat rising in her cheeks again. Ataash grins.

“Do the first thing again,” she tells Cass, leans down so her mouth is closer to Cass’s ear. “Do it slow. I have been doing it for years and I have practiced more. You are learning how. Do not go fast, because you will miss all the little noises he makes.” Ataash runs her fingertips up and down Cass’s spine, between her shoulderblades, one ,two, three times, before she lifts her hand and tucks it back into her lap.

Cass drags her fingers between his labia again, then one more time as he squirms and whines. “Good,” Ataash says, and rests her hand against the back of Cass’s neck again. “There. Be soft with your fingers. Do not press too hard because that is not fun.” “Says the woman who likes hickies on the insides of her thighs so she limps,” Shan snorts.

“The bruises are fun,” Ataash replies reproachfully, and leans over--Maker her arms are long--to press her fingers to one of the hickies blooming on his collarbones. She winks at Cass and makes an encouraging nod, and Cass presses at his clit--carefully--with her fingers, while Ataash does the same to the bruises.

Shan squeaks and arches his back, arm jumping so he claws at Ataash’s forearm with one hand, while the other scrabbles in the sheets. The squeak turns into a whine, and the whine into a moan, dropping in pitch as Cass carefully moves her fingers, tries to remember what he does to her with his tongue, tries to replicate it with her fingers as Ataash’s dark bulk next to her giggles and curls her free hand around Shan’s thigh. She pulls his knee over her leg, spreads him open a little wider. Cass pauses to look up at her, and Shan whines ‘nnnnnnngggggggg’ in the back of his throat when she stops her fingers.

“Make him talk,” Ataash rumbles, voice deep and dark. “He does not talk well when he is very…” She wrinkles her nose and tosses her head back and forth to indicate his entire self, without moving her hands--one still pressing gently at hickies, the other curled around his leg so her thumb sits on the softest skin of his thigh. Cass nods.

“How is this?” she asks, not moving.

“More,” Shan replies, and Cass moves her fingers again in response. “Good,” he replies, breathless. “Good, good,” he repeats. Ataash hums, a deep, pleased sound. Cass swallows hard.

“What do you want me to do?” she asks.

“Already doing it,” Shan replies. “Doing good.”

“Oh,” Cass replies, and moves her fingers again, still careful. They’re getting slicker, and she’s finding she enjoys it more than she thought she would. She suspects it could be the other participants--Shan wiggles and moans with every movement either she or Ataash makes, not quite shameless, but pretty close; Ataash watches him with adoring eyes and her with definite interest. She wonders vaguely if she looks the same when she’s in his position.

Ataash lifts her hand from Shan’s leg to card her fingers through Cass's hair again, curls her fingers to scratch at Cass’s scalp. Cass looks up to scowl at her, and Ataash makes kissy noises, before she winks and nods back down at Shan.

“I--” Cass starts to protest, and can feel her face go red, before she takes a moment to consider. He’s eaten her out frequently, sat up after she came with his face slick, panting ,his eyes wide and expression somewhere between thrilled and terrified, as if he just got away with something he thinks he shouldn't have. It’s a good face, one she imagines sometimes on nights when she’s alone and the mood strikes. “I suppose I…” she says, and turns away from Ataash. Ataash laughs, one rough-edged ‘huh,’ and moves her scalp-scratching down to Cass’s neck.

“You do not have to,” she says, and Cass can feel the shrug through her fingers.

“Please,” Shan says, and Cas isn't sure he knows what he’s asking; his eyes are closed and his hands so tight in the sheets and on Ataash’s arm his knuckles are white-grey, his freckles barely visible.

Cass considers for another moment, then presses her lips together and leans down. Ataash pulls her hand away, lets it rest again on Cass’s back between her shoulderblades. It’s a clear indication that Ataash doesn’t expect her to do it, does not see it as necessary.

“Shan,” Ataash murmurs. “Open your eyes, _kadan_. See what she is doing.”

Cass can feel him moving above her.

She can’t look up at him, can’t do much more than fight the urge to run away and dump a bucket of cold water over herself in an effort to calm down, can’t do much more than lean forward and press a kiss to his clit with dry lips. It’s about as chaste as a kiss can get, when two people are naked and a third is halfway there, her fingers slick and her face this close to another’s crotch. Shan groans and moves again.

Ataash hums.

“Beautiful,” she says. “You are so beautiful,” and she runs her fingers through Cass's hair and down her back. Cass tries to work through her embarrassment by reapplying her fingers, and tries not to look up at Ataash.

Shan grunts and pulls away, and she startles.

“Are you--” she starts.

“Softer,” he tells her. “Good, softer.”

“Oh,” she murmurs, and lets up a little. Shan relaxes again, goes boneless, and Ataash pulls her hands back into her lap.

“Only a little more,” Ataash reassures her. “He is very close.”

Cass grunts, figures her meaning is clear enough, and strokes him again, bottom to top, fingers barely touching him.

Shan continues to go limper, his thighs softening and sagging into the mattress, hands releasing their deathgrip on the sheets. His breathing speeds up, though, becomes harsher, gasps as he edges closer.

When he comes, he seizes up again, and Cass freezes, afraid to have him squirming away or telling her to stop. She stays perfectly still, her head between his legs, her hands still spreading him open.

WHen he relaxes again, he sighs and spreads his arms out to his sides. Ataash laughs and reaches up to smooth his hair back.

“Good?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Very.”

“Cass,” Ataash says, and waves for Cass to sit up. “You should sleep with him,” she instructs, though she offers it more as a suggestion. “He is very cuddly.”

“I’ve noticed,” Cass comments, as Shan hooks his leg over her hip. he snorts and makes grabby hands at her, and she carefully maneuvers until she can flop onto the mattress next to him, one arm over his chest, their legs tangled together. Ataash hums and stands up. SHe stretches and groans, then wanders over to the pile of her clothes, which she kicks at until she finds her pants. She tugs them on and then returns to bed, flopping down on Shan’s other side, draping her arm across his stomach and her hand over Cass’s back.

“Cass, would you be interested in tomorrow?” Ataash asks, her nose pressed into Shan's armpit. He has his hand on the back of her head, his fingers twitching and tracing nonsense patterns. “Shan got his turn tonight, and I am not in the mood right now.” “I would...perhaps,” Cass agrees, and Shan and Ataash both hum in unison, harmonizing until the three of them start giggling.


End file.
